


The Butcher and The Nymph

by HardCandyscribblin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Gossip, Love, M/M, Modern Day, Sexual Content, Size Kink, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardCandyscribblin/pseuds/HardCandyscribblin
Summary: Geralt Rivia is a MMA fighter and male model.Jaskier is a world renowned DJ and musician.Somehow in this fast paced world of Celebrity, fans and family they make it work.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	1. Sonoma so far

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/gifts).



Geralt arrives first. The roar of roach (namesake of coarse) announces his arrival before he himself, arrives at their place. A tasteful cabin hidden in the Sonoma wilderness. The air is warm. Midsomer warmth basking everything in a saturated glow. Geralt settles the Ducati Diavel 1260 on its kick stand and pulls his overnight luggage from the back. Only a few amenities plus his passport. It’s been a while since his schedule allowed him time back here by damn is he glad. 

Their place is a A-frame cabin high in the hills a hour or so away from the local vineyards and farmers market. A sought after haven on the edge of dense woodland that overlooks a valley. The only route up being a shingle track. The Cabin is large with grey-white decking and a fire pit and lounge chairs out front. A cosy covered wooden hot tub is sunk out the back. The cabin painted a stark deep navy that contrasts nicely from the redwoods and pine that surround it. Inside it’s a chic wash of white painted wood, slate and coral-granite workmanship. The Windows large and voluminous allowing the outside-in. At once with nature and snuggly tucked away from it. It had featured handsomely in Architectural Digest a year ago with both Jaskier and Geralt (briefly) featuring in the YouTube video. 100million hits later.... and a few ‘well-off names’ had enquired if the abode was for sale. Hah. Fat chance of that!

Geralt parked the Ducati up the right side of the deck and made his way up. Fishing the key from his pocket he unlocked the french patio doors to the sound of shrill metallic beeping “ah... fuck” he muttered. Tossing his luggage down and striding hastily to the security console. 6 quickly punched in digits later and the security alarm powered down with one last shrill beep. He breathed a sigh of relief bringing a large palm up to soothe away fly-away stands of his trademark silver tresses. 

Geralt instantly made himself at home, shucking off his leather jacket, boots and socks in the hallway to pad barefoot into the open-plan kitchen. The housekeeping staff were marvellous. Everything was spotless and the kitchen itself kept well-stocked for their return. He opened the double door-fridge freezer and surveyed its contents before fishing out a glass bottle of VOSS water. Jaskier has recently gotten into “sustainability” after reading the Latest Auretuza article. Geralt himself had quirked a brow but went along with it. 

He chugged half the litre in a few easy swallows , parched from the travel over before setting the bottle down and setting to work. Geralt unpacked at great ease. Going to their bedroom and En-suite and unpacking his toiletries. Shower gels and aftershave in musky scents of sandalwood and Oud. Jaskier himself preferred the sharper notes of cedar wood and vetiver. None of his stuff was there yet, still give it a few hours or so. Geralt has flown in from Vancouver. Jaskier was coming from Detroit, shouldn’t be long. 

His heart panged at the thought, like that of a love sick teenager and not that of a 36 year old. Geralt huffed at himself, deciding the little world inside was too quiet for his thoughts and went to the living area. What with Jaskier’s work in the music business it ment that he could afford the best state of the art sound system money could buy and had such a electronic system placed in every home he owned. It took Geralt minutes to set up the record to play with the push of a remote and at once the eerie quiet was filled with the familiar dulcet vocals of Jaskier himself. 

Geralt smiled to himself. Imagining the complete ribbing and fussing he would receive if the other man knew that he, Geralt Rivia. The famed “Butcher of Blaviken” MMA fighter (and now sometime male model) missed him so  
Much that he was now playing one of Jaskier’s more soulful records. He snagged the VOSS water from the countertop as he past the kitchen and drained it on the way back to their sleeping quarters. 

Unashamedly Geralt stripped on his way to the bathroom adjacent to the spacious bedroom. Faded jeans and crisp white Henley shirt and Calvin boxer-briefs left a trail behind him. 

Geralt washed away the fatigue and stress of the day under the blessed warmth of the ‘rainfall’ shower they’d had installed. He leaned against the the cool condensation-soaked sandstone tiles and liberally soaped up his body with oud and amber shower gel, scrubbing over hairy pecs and tense large shoulders. Geralt tipped his head to the sky and sighed. God.... the flight over had been rough on his back. Geralt washed his hair and stepped out, grabbed a fluffy white towel from the nearby rack and dried off. Damp skin looking tanned against the neutral surroundings. 

Geralt rubs his hair dry while looking out at the peaceful landscape. The birdsong muted slightly by Jaskier’s music that permeates through their home. Geralt changes into cuffed comfy grey sweatpants (why bother with underwear when he’s home?) and a black long sleeved Henley. He leaves his hair down to dry. The silvery white strands touching just past large shoulders. He goes about the rest of his day in solitude. Something the MMA fighter and model rarely gets nowadays and relishes. 

Geralt checks his emails for work. Both with his manager Vesemir and on his merch line with other silent business partners. All the while the shadows of the great pines creep over with the shift of sunlight as time passes. The record has replayed and flipped automatically twice over already not that Geralt notices. The subtle subliminal dip in and out of noticing his still missing lover’s voice made the corners of his lips lift. He’s never had it bad like this with past lovers.... including Yen. 

Geralt has already done his fasted cardio (back in Vancouver bored out of his mind on a treadmill in a suped-up gym.) otherwise the man would go out run the trails like he does nearly every morning he’s here in Sonoma with Jaskier usually left sleeping in. Lord knows the constant time-zone changes and Jet-lag send the younger man’s circadian rhythm off for weeks causing him to stay up late and crash hard in the morning. Geralt doesn’t mind. He’s always liked working out on his own anyways.

He surveys the well stocked fridge. They always have specifics in there left by housekeeping for their arrival. Geralt’s food rider is very specific to his training program at the time - grass fed beef, organic chicken, pastured eggs, organic greens, butter, full fat milk and berries - for a cut. Heirloom roots, nightshades, potatoes, brown rice and organic wheat bread for when he’s bulking. There are craft ales, wines of various vintage and shade from the local vineyards and a few liquors for cheat days and holidays. 

Jaskier’s needs are a lot simpler and then not so.... he likes the finer things in life and likes to cook when he gets the chance. So the cupboards must be kept up to date with spices, culinary oils and a few boujee speciality ingredients (white truffle and pramaggiano reggiano cheese omelette anyone?) although sometimes he just wants steelcut oats with honey and cream - Something simple, comforting.

Quite a lot of the time there will be peak basics and both men will either ride out on Roach or take the longer scenic walk into town to the farmers market for specifics. 

Geralt changes the record to some easy listening band in Jask’s enormous record collection and makes a simple dinner of grilled salmon and veggies (he’s on a cut) and eats it out on the porch, bare feet kicked off the end. Breeze overhead rustling the trees. It sounds like an applause. A welcome home and for Geralt it is. This place.... their home here in the woods is a safe haven that both men always return to. To each other. 

He huffs and checks his phone.  
Ciri sends her love from New York (she’s with Yen this week)  
Vesemir has got him a spread in Men’s Health (the reason he’s on a cut) and needs to check their questions for the article.  
Nothing new from Jaskier. Not since the photo he sent last night. 

It’s a hard to see image that Jaskier has taken of himself in the window of the studio. He looks shimmery and resplendent in his natural habitat. Wearing a paisley jacket in rich jewel tones, delicate chains round his neck and a crisp white shirt. Jaskier is standing at the mixing desk which uplights him in greens, reds and gold. Geralt can barely make out the lop-sided cheeky grin of the man, holding a piece of paper with his signature scrawl “11 hours xxx :P” 

Geralt humms and pockets his phone. The rest of the day passes easily enough. Geralt reads, meditates, uses the hot tub out the back because why the hell not? Has another hot shower before turning in for the night as the sun dips, making way for the moon to rise and the stars to blanket the night sky.


	2. Tread Quietly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier comes home.

It’s sometime past midnight when Geralt rouses. Somewhere in that soft semi-dream-like state he can hear the smooth firm crunch of shingle (vehicle outside - his brain supplies) door slams and muffled voices and then more crunch that fades. The great thing about living in the wilderness you get used to all the sounds. Birdsong, the rustle and creak of trees in the wind.... the late arrival of your musician lover.

He huffs and turns in their bed. A california King, low on the floor, white walnut frame with generous edging that’s perfect for smartphones, notebooks, coffee cups and Knees to balance on. Geralt turns onto his stomach pulling the the crisp voluminous duvet over with him. Snuffling into the Egyptian cotton 1000 thread count sheets that Jaskier insisted on buying. The man does have good taste, he’ll give him that. 

The front door clicks open and a few warning chirrups of the alarm system sound and a muttered “son of af-“ as digits are punched in. Geralt can hear his lover TRYING to be quiet and not disturb him from the front of the cabin, he just can’t help it. The man is never quiet too quiet for long and it’s an endearing quirk. He hears the plonk of boots hit the floor in the hallway and huffs and rolls onto his side now more awake as muted footsteps ‘creep’ into their bedroom. Down goes the luggage with a THUNK at the foot of the bed. Geralt can practically hear the wince he knows Jaskier has made before a few beats pass. 

Geralt keeps his eyes closed and breath even (Jask would be annoyed at himself if he knew just how unsuccessful his stealth mission was) and waits. There is a ghost of warm breath over his cheekbone, bad airport coffee and orange tictacs to try to fresh up. “Heeeey. Hey there Witcher.” Jaskier’s whisper is aimed somewhere near Geralt’s ear and a soft kiss placed gingerly to his temple with surprisingly good aim in the dark.

“Mmmm..” comes Geralt’s reply feigning deep sleep. With the musician this close he can smell the last remnants of Tom Ford Grey Vetiver cologne and under that the sour-grape tang of sweat from travelling. There’s a small warm hand settled on his bicep so gently. Long fingers barely touching. “Sorry I’m late. Flight got delayed and reception at the airport was crap.”   
“Come to bed..” Geralt sighs, voice like gravel. He’s missed him.   
“Let me go shower first... I stink of plane strangers.” Jaskier says softly before placing another kiss on his Lover. This time it lands on the Fighters soft lips and then he’s gone again off into the bathroom. The door closes and the light clicks on. A warm glow that halos the outline of the doorway.

Geralt lies there in the Dark for a few minutes listening as the shower starts and he can hear the gasp from the other man as he goes under the spray. The sound goes straight to his groin making his cock twitch in interest. It takes all but a few seconds for him to decide what to do. Geralt is over there in 2 large strides and opens the door to reveal the visage behind it.

He blinks his eyes against the steam that rushes out and spies Jaskier. He’s slumped against the far wall letting the powerful shower jets wash over him, fatigue radiating of the younger man in waves. Jaskier rubs the nape of his neck, catching the gold jewellery that hangs round his neck. Head hung low and let the water run down to plaster his soft brown locks over his face into his eyes that are shut against the watery onslaught. He hasn’t even noticed Geralt creep in as quiet as a church mouse. Geralt pulls of his Pajama bottoms, leaving them in a mightnight silk puddle on the floor to join the younger man in the shower. 

He brings his strong arms around Jaskier and pulls younger man to gently lean back against him. Which jaskier does with a audible groan, eyes still shut against the world. All thoughts of a more physical reunion stop in their tracks as Geralt eyes his lover’s face. He looks pale save for the colour in his cheeks from the hot water (he’s got it the temperature set to the near side of scalding) and there is the telltale lines of bags forming under his eyes. Jaskier hasn’t even started to wash yet. 

“Hmmmm..” Geralt rumbles. His mind made up to take care of the man in his arms. He kisses just above Jaskier’s collar bone where soft wet body hair ceases and whispers “stand up a bit for me...” and “that’s it” when the other man does. Geralt leans forward and empties a generous amount of Jask’s Cedar wood and Vetiver shower gel. Soaping over his slim frame, skimming over furred pecs and belly and up slender toned arms. Jaskier slumped back against Geralt and hums Eyes still shut as he let himself be looked after. 

Geralt washes Jaskier in the quiet. He skims over tight thighs, soothes over his back and the soft skin of Jaskier’s backside. Thumbs rubbing over the twin indents just above the swell of his arse, where Geralt loves to place his thumbs. Only the occasional sigh from the DJ and the rush of water overhead fill the space. Strong large sudsy hands gently skim over Jaskier’s cock with care. Geralt is sure if he wasn’t so tired Jaskier would be hard from his ministrations. He usually is. The smaller man gives a pleading whine and Geralt shushes him with a nip and kiss to the neck offered to him. 

“Another time Jas.... you are too tired. Come on.” Another peck to damp skin and Geralt washes dark locks with ridiculously expensive Aveda oat milk shampoo. He rinses his lover under the showerfall, keeping soap out of the younger man’s tired eyes. The shower gets turned off leaving the bathroom condensation slick and misty. At least Jaskier IS helpful in stepping out of the large shower unit and removes the twin necklaces to dangle precariously on the sink. The rings stay on. Geralt towels him off, paying no mind to his own glistening and goosepimpled flesh from what will be now Shower number 3.

Geralt towel dries Jaskier’s hair as gently as he can only stopping when delicate hands come to rest on his large shoulders and sky blue eyes fix him with a knowing look. He stops. 

“I woke you up coming in didn’t I?” Comes the rhetorical question with an easy drawl. He really is sleepy. 

Geralt shrugs “good thing you did... otherwise I would have found you face down and arse up in the morning, drowned in 2 inches of water.” The delivery is blunt but jaskier knows it’s not meant to wound. 

“Possibly.” He smiles slow as Geralt quickly dries himself off. Arms coming up round Geralt’s neck and Jaskier is gently lifted up mostly by one arm under his butt as the Fighter carries him to bed, as if he weighs nothing more than a dried leaf. The settle in the massive California King under plush white bedding. Jaskier slotting against Geralt with an arm slung over his waist. The musicians eyes are closed and his breathing even well before Geralt whispers goodnight.


	3. Grace to the Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The men have missed each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially porn. Sorry about that.  
> *nervous DA HOUSE*

Pale morning light filters through the large windows. curtainless and without blinds as Yen has ‘prescribed’ to help Jask’s body get back into rhythm after years on the nightclub and music circuit. And he certainly was building up a nice undulating rhythm currently atop Geralt. Rings catch on the hair of Geralt’s hard pecs as jaskier sinks down again further onto his large cock before shifting his hips back up and clenching. His back arched and as taut as a bowstring. Geralt groans and grinds back up into the intimate heat of his lover, hitting that spot deep inside Jaskier. There’s a telltale hitch to Jaskier’s gasps let’s Geralt know he’s close. Truth be told Geralt himself isn’t that far behind him. They’ve been apart too long.

It all started with Geralt waking to the first glimmers of sunlight and insistent hands, kisses and teeth at his chest. A shy admission of wanting a proper reunion (jaskier) and who was Geralt to deny him anything. That and his own growing lust. 

From then it was rushed kisses, expensive oil based lubricant and 4 of Geralt’s thick fingers inside the younger man. His thumb rubbing soothing circles into the delicate stretched skin above his hole. Geralt was not one to boast ( hmm... maybe a quiet smugness), but he was not just longer, but thicker then the average man. Yen had made him wear a ‘Too-Deep Donut’ in their on-and-off time together. Jaskier himself no slouch in the trouser department but nothing compared to the MMA fighter.

even with all the preparation that to make Jaskier whine and melt in sheets it still took his lovers breath away when he finally fully sheathed himself inside the DJ.  
And now Jaskier was a near incoherent mess, panting hard stroking his hard cock shiny with pre-come and slicked fingers.  
“Ugh.... yes. Geralt yes.” *pant* “Gonna make me come. Oh like?” *pant* ”Oh I’m gonna cum hard. You feel so. Yesss. Hard.” *pant* ”you are so deep. Please.”  
Geralt for his efforts sped up. 

Jaskier was gorgeous like this backlit by morning light. Sweat making strands of dark locks curl against his face. Flushed from his cheeks down to his collarbones He wanted to run his tongue along them and taste the sweat there. But this position was too good to give up. “Hold on.” He ground out. Geralt bought his hands down from their position on the younger mans hips to cup and spread the soft arse cheeks of his lover. At once supporting and heightening the pleasure for his partner and himself as Geralt bought his knees up and and piston’d his hips. bouncing Jaskier on his large cock.

“Fuck. Ugh Fuck.” Geralt bites his lip as Jaskier tries to hang on. Hands go from Geralt’s tight glistening pecs and his own cock to the low headboard above. Thank fuck their bed isn’t anywhere near a wall or the headboard would bang right through and Jask would lose his fingers..... and he needs those. Knuckles whiten as the younger man atop Geralt, meets his hips. thrust for frantic thrust. 

It’s obscene and so hot. The sound of slapping skin as thick thighs hit the back Jaskier’s flanks. It’s so good and doesn’t last long. Geralt hits that pleasure button deep inside his lover each time. Oh god that’s it. Jaskier is wails, neck craned to the vaulted ceiling as he comes. Thick warm stripes against his stomach. Jaskier groans above him and continues to fuck him down on the Geralt’s cock right through his orgasm. Thrusting back hard and tilting his hips. “YES Jassskier! FUCK.” Geralt pushes to the hilt and spills inside the man above. Large hands moving up to Jaskier’s waist as he continues to twitch deep inside his lover. 

Clever Musician’s fingers gently brush errant silvery stands from high cheekbones and frame his face, stroking Geralt’s heated skin. They kiss slow sloppily as both men try to catch their breath is the endorphin high of afterglow. Jaskier shifts up and off Geralt to lie next to him, wincing at the movement at the loss of him in his arse. 

Jaskier is a man who is well prepared. He has to be for his profession and the schedule he keeps and for the intimate moments like this. The DJ leans into his nightstand and fishes out a small towel and cleans both Geralt and himself up.

Geralt huffs and thinks they will still need a shower but that can wait. He pulls Jaskier to him, who settles against Geralt’s chest and pulls the supersoft duvet up over them. He kisses the top of the brunette’s head and sighs deeply.

Morning light is turning golden as both men fall back to sleep in each others arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again big thankies going out to Kissa for putting up with my ramblings *mwah*


	4. Morning interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mornings are made for blueberries and surprises.

It’s sometime past 8am when Geralt wakes again. This time to hushed vibrations from his phone on the tiny white cube of a bedside table. He frowns at it before tossing the damn thing back down.   
Time to get going, He thinks.

The larger man rolls over to find jaskier lying on his stomach, butt bared to the world. An arm dangling over the edge of the bed with the other stuffed under his pillow, His neck at an impossible angle. THAT cannot be comfy Geralt thinks but he knows better then to move him. Jaskier is out for the count judging from the slow rise and fall of his back. If Geralt were to move him (like he MIGHT have done in the past) the fighter would be given an earful in return for his care. 

So instead Geralt leaned over and whispered in the other man’s ear “Jaskier.... I’m going for a run.” This earned him a muffled “Mmmmm” in reply. Geralt kisses the nearest shoulder and got up, went about his morning ablutions before pulling out his running gear from their spacious wardrobe. A enormous amount of storage recessed into the wall and made to look like the rest of the white interior.

Black aard logo shorts, marle-grey vest and black symbol Hoodie (all Witcher merch) made up his ensemble. Geralt tied his trademark white tresses up in a bun. Swiped his polar watch and heart monitor (yes he took his training seriously) and headed quietly down the stairs and out the cabin, grabbing and yanking on his trainers as he went. 

The air still had that fresh dew damp feel of early morning and the petrichor smell of ozone, wet grass and forest earth. Geralt did a series of well practiced stretches making wet squeaking sounds upon the deck. When he deemed himself sufficiently warmed up, Geralt took a small leap off, and broke out into a gentle run, hitting the trails out into the mist-blanketed woods. 

An hour later and Geralt walked into the cabin, yanking off his now damp all-terrain ASICS and leaving them by the log burner to dry. He’s very warm and sweating from a good run well done if Geralt’s monitor stats are anything to go by. 

Still trying to catch his breath, geralt turns the corner of the living space into the kitchen space to find Jaskier. The younger man is dressed in white Gucci silk sleep pants, olive green and petal pink silk kimono decorated in white chrysanthemums (also Gucci) open at the front to display all that skin and hair that Geralt knows so well. Dark hair drying from his morning shower. he looks good. The bags under his eyes gone. Quite clearly a good fucking agrees with the younger man. It does with Geralt. 

Jaskier looks up and smiles like sunshine at seeing his lover. “Oh morning you. I take it you had a good run.” The DJ says cheerfulness colouring his words. As Geralt sits at the stool of their kitchen island “morning and yes.” He replies in that gruff baritone. Jaskier slides a tiny espresso cup - Colombian roast, double shot - just how Geralt likes it. The perfect finish to his fastest cardio session. 

Quietly Geralt watches Jaskier’s ministrations. golden eyes fixed intently as jaskier smooshes blueberries into sugar with his fingertips with a quizzical look. Jaskier looks up. Almost as if he could feel the older man’s thoughts. “we have no jam and how can you have sourdough toast and butter without blueberry jam?” He says waving violet streaked hands in the air as he talks. Jaskier is still sporting the forest green nail polish he wore for the latest Gucci commercial (it’s the colour of the year... Pantone says so.) and his silver rings clink against pale duck-egg blue ceramic bowl as he rubs the ingredients together. Geralt takes a sip of his espresso. The cup ridiculously small in his large hand. “Hmmm ....” he hums in mock agreement and leans closer over the coral-coloured granite top of the island in the kitchen.

Geralt helps by going prepping the rest of their breakfast ( his cut be damned just this once) while jaskier continues to work the fruity pulp. He slices and toasts the aromatic bread and they eat it with salted butter and the blueberry sugar smash. Geralt taking his time between bites to enjoy the illicit slice while Jaskier devours his own. Before Jaskier goes to lick a mauve tinted thumb covered in fruit, Geralt grabs his wrist and suck the appendage into his mouth without warning. Jask squeaks in surprise and mutters “oh! you brute!” In mock indignation. Geralt smiles round the digit and swipes the pad of Jaskier’s thumb with his tongue.

“Oh I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Comes a surprise voice from the doorway. Feminine, droll and very familiar. Oh good. Yennefer is here...   
why?


End file.
